


One Fateful Night

by thirsty-for-lemonade (AmmyOkami)



Category: Crimson Peak (2015), Crimson Peak (2015) RPF
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Ghosts, Oral Sex, Slight Horror Elements, mention of death and suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 12:45:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16854205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmmyOkami/pseuds/thirsty-for-lemonade
Summary: You prepare, together with your friends, a Halloween party at Allerdale Hall. Though you have a bad feeling about this - the history of this blood-soaked place is very well known after all - you never expected this night to be the one to seal your fate…----Once a year, lost spirits still dwelling on earth are able to manifest themselves for a few hours and roam the material world - able to love, able to hurt.





	One Fateful Night

Once a year lost spirits still dwelling on earth are able to manifest themselves for a few hours, or so your grandmother used to tell you when you had been a child. You had loved your grandmother’s scary stories. With Mr. Teddy tightly pressed against your chest you had perked up your ears and soaked in every single word of her spine-chilling tales. Ghosts never really had scared you. After all, you never really had believed in them.

And yet here you were now, in Allerdale Hall, decorating the mansion - or what was remaining of it - for the upcoming Halloween party, and for the very first time in your life you had the weird feeling of being watched by invisible eyes. It was hard to describe, and more hard to believe. Being watched by a ghost? Ridiculous! But in Allerdale Hall it WAS abnormally cold and the creepy noises this building made sometimes sent chills down your spine. 

You always reminded yourself this mansion was old, very old, and old houses made noises. Always. So… Nothing out of the ordinary, right? But this all, together with the smell of moist stone and rotten rats and the knowledge real murders had taken place in this mansion contributed to the fearful horror tale you were spinning in your head. Moreover, Allerdale Hall was famous for people to come here and end their lives! The air was heavy, reeked of death and doom. This was no place was not meant to be for the living.  

The story was famous around the world: The owner, whose heart was eroded by his mad, unnatural love for his poor sister, had kept his sister captive and had lured dozens and dozens of other innocent women into his mansion. He had married them. Had killed them. And for what? The reason was unknown. For sure he was just some sadistic bastard who took pleasure in hearing the pained and fearful screams of women.

Sir Thomas Sharpe, “The Crimson Killer” how he was called in modern times. A real monster he had been, indeed. Only one had survived this nightmare, a woman named Edith Cushing. She never had talked about it and with her death she took her secret, and the secret of Crimson Peak, to the other side. No one would ever discover the truth of how the women had died, what exactly they had to endure, and how many lives this beast truly had claimed.

Rumors spread that Sharpe’s and his sister’s corpses had disappeared. Instead, the decayed remains of several victims, even a baby, had been found. Ever since then, whispers of paranormal activities had grown loud. It is said that Sharpe’s depraved soul was still in here, torturing his sister, and beckoning beautiful women inside the murderous walls, letting them lose their minds until they killed themselves.

The thought let you shudder. No, you really never had believed in ghosts, but now that you were inside a famous haunted house… You really didn’t feel good about this.

“Hey, Ben. Do we really have to celebrate here? I don’t think this is a good idea. I mean… It’s Halloween… And… You know what happened here…”

“Are you kidding me, _______? We are celebrating here, BECAUSE of what happened in here! Just think about it!” Your good friend Benjamin took out his smartphone. “If something happens we will film it and be rich bitches!”

“Seriously?” you frowned.

“Come on, babe, this party will be the shit!”

“Would you please stop calling me that? You know I don’t like it.” Ben was your dear friend, but he had the bad habit of calling every skirt-wearing person “Babe”, and you hated being called like that - at least from someone who wasn’t your boyfriend. He laughed loud, his joyful voice echoed through the halls. You knew exactly what he was thinking. _Awh, she is so cute when she’s mad._ Annoyed, but with a smile, you rolled with your eyes. He would never change.

Ben’s laughter suddenly turned into groans. He was holding his stomach and appeared to be in great pain. “Hey, what’s wrong?” you asked worried. My God… Was this Sharpe’s doing? Was he mad for showing so much disrespect towards him and his mansion? You were about to climb down the ladder already, when your friend rose his hand. You stopped, anxiously waited.

“Ben…?” you said frightened.

He squinted his eyes, bared his teeth and… farted.

“A lot better,” he grinned. “Guess it was a mistake to eat Thai food before coming here.

“You fucking idiot, you can’t be serious!” you laughed, half amused, half serious, throwing a rubber bat at his direction. “You scared me!”

He fluttered with his eyelashes, touched his cheeks and made these duck lips he always made when he made fun of someone. “Awh, you were scared of ol’ lil’ me? So cute! Say it! You like me more than you want to admit!”

“You are so stupid!”

“Ben! Could you come for a sec?” another male voice yelled from the room next the kitchen.

“On my wahaaaay,” he singsonged.

“Idiot,” you mumbled grinning. Yes, he would really never change. The sudden realization of being alone hit you. You took a deep breath.

_Ghosts are not real… Ghosts are not real… Ghosts are not real…_

You continued your work, adorned the kitchen with ugly but cute little skeletons, pumpkin LED string lights and rubber bats. The tapping of small feet then caught your attention. What… What was that?! You turned your head the direction the sound was coming from, looked down. Quickly your fear dissolved after you heard the happy barking of a little pup. A papillon?

“What are you doing here, cutie? How did you get in here?”

The hem of something deep red appeared behind the dog. It took shape, formed into a stunning Victorian dress. The woman wearing it was even more stunning. Dark smooth hair was arranged to a beautiful romantic braided updo, her plump lips had the color of blood and her pale skin looked like porcelain. And though she was a true beauty, you got an ill feeling from her. Just as you began to get dizzy the woman grimaced and turned completely black, moths streamed out her mouth, fluttered your way. They surrounded you, took your sight. Desperately you waved with your hands, screamed. You lost your balance, fell.

Arms wrapped around your body, your face met soft fabrics. That smell… It was so… You didn’t know how to describe it… Nostalgic…? For a split second you felt safe, but fastly the terror took over you again. Terrified you looked up, met the most gorgeous, unearthly blue you had ever seen. They confused you somehow, evoke so many different emotions in you: affection, sadness, pain, happiness, the wish to help, horror. You then remembered the moths. Panting you turned your head from side to side, looked up, looked behind you as far as you could. Nothing.

“Miss, are you alright?” a velvet voice inquired. “You seem to be distressed.”

Your eyes darted back to the mysterious, handsome gentleman.

“Who are you? Are you Ben’s friend? I’ve never seen you before.” You noticed his clothes: all in black. Black shoes, black trousers, black velveteen coat, black satin waistcoat and cravat… Only a tiny bit of his white linen shirt could be seen right under his chin. His clothes were a huge contrast to his pale face. “Isn’t it too early to wear costumes? The party is in a few hours.”

“Miss, I am afraid I am not sure what you are talking about. I do not know a man with the name Ben. And what is this party you mentioned?” His smile was sincere, his voice that of a curious little boy.

“Who are you?” you asked again, more wary this time.

“Oh dear, where are my manners? Please forgive my rudeness!” The man took a small step back, left just enough space to take your hand. You winced; his skin was cold as ice. He then placed a soft kiss at the back of your hand and introduced himself.

“My name is Thomas Sharpe, baronet.” You swallowed, forgot how to breathe. “I am the owner of this place.”

Sir Thomas Sharpe, baronet? THAT Thomas Sharpe?

It dawned on you. This was a prank. This had to be one. A very good one you had to admit and you couldn’t imagine how Ben had pulled it, but… It just HAD to be a prank! You were convinced enough thinking you were right, and your fear turned into boiling rage. You gave him a livid look and jerked your hand away from his.

“You and your bitch friend can go back to hell! This wasn’t funny at all! I was scared and I almost broke my fucking neck!”

Clear and utter confusion spread across the man’s face, and you could have sworn he turned slightly transparent for the glimpse of a moment. No, that was just happening in your head! You were still scared, so your mind was playing tricks on you!

“Jeez, fuck you all!”

“Miss, I assure you I don’t know-”

“Oh, cut this crap! Hey, Ben!” you shouted, stomping pass the stranger and to the door. You threw the black wooden door open, yelled, “You are the biggest asshole of all times, you know that? Scaring me like that! Not funny at all!”

He and another friend rushed your way, wanted to know what you were talking about. Threatening you raised your index finger and pointed it at Ben’s face. “Oh, don’t play dumb! You know exactly what I am talking about!” Your voice grew louder and louder, more and more heated as you told them what had happened. The more you explained the situation you were in, the more the two guys got upset.

“Who is the one who wants to scare us, huh? Stop that bullshit, _______!”

“What, me?!” you scoffed. “Let’s asked your friends then, shall we?!”

You swirled around, barked a “Hey, you!”. Your expression dropped as you realized the room was empty. There was no sign of a man, no sign of a woman nor a dog. Impossible… None of them could just vanish into thin air! Close to tears you searched every corner of the kitchen for a secret door, any hidden passage. They had to escape somehow! Somehow…

“Come on, _________. No one is here. It’s just us. You, me, Oliver, Mary, Mike and Scarlet. No one else is here.”

“I swear I saw them,” you said weak, doubting our own sanity.

Oliver, who was standing next to Ben, a cigarette hanging from his lips, tried to calm you down. You were just tired from the long ride, he was saying. “And you read a lot of stuff about this place, right? And hey, it’s Halloween!” Oliver took the rest of his cigarette between his fingers, lifted both his arms in a ghost like manner and made a funny face, his tongue hanging out. “Bohoooo, scary shit happening! Of course you expect something to happen in a place and day like this and then your brain goes crazy and makes something up for you to satisfy your needs.”

“To satisfy my needs? You are so sick. Seriously...”

Oliver chuckled and Ben joined him. “Oliver is right. You are just too tired for sure. You should rest a bit.”

You forced a thin smile and nodded. Maybe they had been right. You hoped they had been right…

You excused yourself, said you remembered there should be a bedroom on the upper floor and wanted to take a rest. Sluggishly you ascended up the impressive but creepy staircase. The stairs, no, the whole building seemed to groan with every step you took. Fatigue gnawed on your bones and you felt your eyes getting more and more heavy the farther you got upstairs. 

Was it really possible to get so tired THAT quickly? You didn’t know, but what you knew was that you desired nothing more than to feel the warm comfort of a soft bed. A smoot male voice was guiding you. Strangely enough you felt no fear at all. Weird. Only moments before you were frightened to death. And now? Nothing. Like someone pressed a switch in you, turning your mood from _“Scared as fuck”_ to _“Doesn’t give a fuck”._

Instead of the bedroom, you reached the attic. Lights turned on by themselves. The room was stuffed with unknown, old-fashioned devices, things that looked like vintage toys, withered papers lay spread on a desk. The heavy door slammed shut after you had entered it. The loud bang it made woke you up from your trance like state. Great, the switch was turned back to “Scared as fuck.” You caught a glimpse of a moving shadow from the corner of your eye.

“Okay, that’s it. I am out. Fuck the party. Fuck this mansion. Fuck everything.”

Your heart was in your mouth, beads of sweat shone like tiny pearls on your forehead. You rattled at the door, but it didn’t move one single bit.

“Come on! Come on!” you squeezed out through gritted teeth. “Open! For fuck’s sake, please open!!!”

You tried to open the door again, without success. With your palm you banged against the wooden surface, the other hand was still on the doorknob.

“Hey! Can anyone hear me? Guys? Hello? Help me!”

A pained yell came from deep down your throat as some sort of electricity burned your hand. The pain surged through every cell of your body, got unbearable. You hit the floor, vision hazy. You noticed the blurry silhouette of a man standing next the working table.

“No… You are not real... You don’t exist...”

“Please forgive my harsh methods, miss, but it’s the only way I can save you from her.”

“Save… me… from her? Save me from who?”

You couldn’t hear his answer. Black clouds surrounded your mind, everything around you disappeared - you passed out.

****

How much time had passed? It was pitch-black outside already, so two hours or more must have passed. You woke up, your head felt like it got split into two halves. Dust from the floor tickled your throat, caused a coughing fit. You got on your knees, made a fist in front of your mouth and coughed your lungs out. Your stomach hurt already; you felt so sick and dizzy, you were close to vomit.

A gentle hand touched your shoulders, another hand held a glass of water in front of you.

“Miss. Here. Drink this.”

Without questioning who was offering you something to drink you took the glass and greedily swallowed every single drop. Some drops were spilled as you coughed now and then while drinking. Immediately your body was responding to the refreshment. New energy was flowing through your veins, the coughing eventually stopped and the pulsating hammering of your head disappeared.

“T-Thank you,” you gasped, looking up for the first time since you collapsed on the floor. Eyes widened in shock at the realization of who was with you.

“D-Don’t kill me! Please!” you cheeped, eyes shut closed again with tears forming. Deep inside you knew how stupid you sounded. When did a killer EVER let a potential victim stay alive, just because they asked them to? On the contrary. Killers enjoyed their victim’s whimpers, their cries, their desperate begging. Why should he be different? Ghost or not… You’d fall victim for him. By now you just hoped it would be a quick and easy death.

“I am not the monster you think I am,” Thomas said dolefully.

Sharpe’s eyes searched for yours, but you refused to open yours. Over and over again you told yourself he was not real, he was not here, he was not Sir Thomas Sharpe, he was not the beast from the past who had brutally murdered dozens and dozens of young women, including his sister. He was not real, he was not here, he was not real…!

“I am real. I am here, at this very moment, just as you are, miss.”

The iciness of his hands stung your skin the moment he touched your cheeks. Gingerly he lifted your head, cold breathe brushed your lips and the next moment, icy lips met yours. The feeling was so real, so tangible. A part of you finally accepted this WAS the reality now. No dream. No imagination.

“You are Thomas Sharpe?” you asked quietly after breaking the kiss.

“Yes.”

“The Crimson Killer?”

“This is how people call me?”

“Why did you kill all these women? Why did you kill your sister?”

“People think I did?”

Reluctantly you opened your eyes. While he saw endless lust for life and now fear in yours, you only found sadness and loneliness in his. Your picture of the Crimson Killer got cracks. Was he really that cold-blooded serial killer everyone said? The internet was full with different gruesome theories about this person, but right now none of them seemed to be true. What you saw before you was not a deranged and bloodthirsty lunatic but a kind and attentive soul. Hm, but serial killer were all good actors, weren’t they? What should you believe? Which voice should you follow? The voice of your mind, telling you not to trust him at all? Or the voice of your heart, telling you you were safe with him?

You found your answer right away as you registered loud banging against the door. The terrifying screeching of a woman came from the other side. You held your ears, thought your eardrum were about to rupture at any moment.

“No! You can’t have her, sister!”

_Sister..?!_

“Oh, I will have her, dear brother. You know my blade thirsts for blood. And who knows? Maybe she is a fitting vessel?”

_Fitting… vessel…?_

“You cannot have her! I won’t let you have her!”

Thomas helped you up, guided you at the very end of the room. There he sat down again, forced you down with him. Protectively he wrapped his arms and legs around your quivering body, held you tight. The banging on the door as well as the ear-piercing screaming continued.

“Do not be afraid, miss. She can’t pass this door and come into this room. This is my place. You are safe here. After I am gone you must leave from here and never come back.”

“After you are gone? What do you mean _“After you are gone”_?”

Thomas smiled softly at you, feeding your confusion. He apologized for the kiss earlier. “Somehow I needed to make sure you believe I am real.”

“You don’t have apologize for it, but…” You swallowed. “I am sorry, but.. Are you really… a ghost..? But if so, why can I touch you? How is this possible?”

Sharpe didn’t answer, only smiled warmly. Despite his warm smile, you were able to grasp all the pain he was going through, and for some reason it shattered your heart into pieces.

“Sir Thomas, are you lonely?”

“Not now,” he answered.

Your cheeks heated up, your heart hammered anxiously against your chest. God, what made you feel this way? Made you the fear of dying soon feel so careless? Was it the thought of being killed soon that made you try to kiss him, to feel his lips on yours again? You lifted your head, but he withdrew.

“As much as my heart wishes to taste the sweetness and feel the warmth of your lovely lips again, I sadly have to refuse.”

“You kissed me before…”

“And for this I am truly sorry. I explained why. Forgive me, miss.”

Not forgotten was the lethal danger lurking at the other side of the door, however, you felt safe and protected. Everything would turn out alright. 

“My name is __________.”

“__________ it is. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

You tried to kiss him again, but again he rejected you.

“Don’t...,” Thomas breathed. “I am afraid I won’t be able to let you go anymore.” He spoke the truth since he truly missed, even forgot, how it felt like to feel affection for each other. And you were that type of girl he knew he could grow feelings for: bright, sweet, kind, smart, pretty...

“I’ll be dead soon. I want to feel alive the last moment of my life.”

“You won’t die! I won’t allow it. At least one innocent soul will leave this doomed place alive. Sleep now, __________. When you wake up this nightmare will be over. I promise you.”

You were about to protest when fatigue took possession over your body for a second time of the night. You started to feel heavy, tired.

“It soon will be over…,” Thomas whispered, stroking your hair.

****

You woke up with a startle. Someone was shaking you.

“Miss? Miss?! Are you alright? Please answer! Wake up!”

The first things you saw were a few police cars and two ambulance vehicles. You were… outside? You jumped up your feet, asked confused what had happened and why you had been outside.

“We hoped you could tell us what happened,” the police officer grumbled.

“What do you mean? Where are my friends? Where is Thomas? And this woman? Are they still inside? Oh my God, I need to warn them!”

You wanted to run back to the mansion, but the police officer held you back.

“Miss! Miss, I need you to calm down!”

“Where are my friends? Where is Thomas?” you slowly began to sob. Your mind was still hazy, still trying to collect all the puzzle pieces from last night.

“What happened? Please tell me! Where is everyone?”

The officer hesitated, said then, ”I am sorry, miss.”

No… This… couldn’t be…? You got to know that the bodies of four of your friends had been found - suicide. The body of one friend - Ben - was missing.

“I am sorry, Ms. ________ was your name, right? I am sorry, but you need to come with us and answer some questions. Do you think you can do this?”

You nodded, not sure you actually could since the shock rooted too deep. Sniveling you looked up, looked at the round little window of the attic. Your heart stopped beating. He was standing there, watching you.

_“You mustn’t come again, ________. Promise me,”_ you heard him beg in your head. “ _You mustn’t. Forget about this place. Forget about me.”_

Tears were flowing freely now. Tears for losing your dear friends. Tears for the pain Thomas had to endure, even after his death. 

Yes, for now you would leave this godforsaken place. But God knew you would find your way back again. For Ben. And for _him._ To come behind _his_ secret. The story of _The Crimson Killer:_ Sir Thomas Sharpe.

“I will find you, Ben. And we will meet again, Thomas” you whispered. “I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please be a gem and leave a Kudo and/or comment if you liked the story :D It would make my day!
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr: https://succumb-to-your-king.tumblr.com


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